


Burning Desires

by Anonymous



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Brother/Brother Incest, Candles, Cocaine, Drug Use, Drugs, Explicit Sexual Content, Fucked up Nargothrond dynamics, Incest, Jealousy, M/M, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Sensation Play, Sexual Fantasy, Sibling Incest, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 13:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6756238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Nargothrond, Orodreth dreams about what he cannot have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning Desires

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [merryismaytime2016](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/merryismaytime2016) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> Orodreth has a lonely wank, fantasising over the person of your choice.

**Burning Desires**

*****

 

Emerald fabrics, adorned with tiny pearls of gold, draped around his bed, and brocade pillows, gold and green, rested idly against the headboard. Candles, too many to be counted, hundreds over hundreds burnt in every corner of the room, casting their shadows against the carven walls, shooing the coldness from the stone away. Lush decanters, filled with scarlet wine or golden whiskey stood nearby, together with two heavy goblets bearing the family’s ancient sigil.

Orodreth did not know when exactly it had happened, but slowly, over the past few years, his night chamber has become an almost exact replica of his brother’s. Splendid and luxurious – so shamefully decadent as their sister perhaps would say.

In the beginning a guilty conscience had plagued him – day after day, night after night – not anymore.

What did it matter, at the end, to live in lascivious luxury in a forsaken kingdom where decadence and forbidden pleasures reigned?

Long years Orodreth has thought himself immune to the dalliances among those who were unwed; long years, perhaps too many, Orodreth has fought against feelings he frowned upon; long years, that now seemed to be entirely forgotten.

He didn’t fight anymore. Not against his rebellious cousins – nor against his illicit desires. Their course was a doomed one, so why not add the final sin to the pile of so many he has committed throughout the ages?

 

*

When he returned to his sleeping chambers his skin was still damp from the relaxing bath he had just taken to rid himself of yet another tiresome day, glistening and sparkling like diamond dust in the flickering candle light. The bath has warmed him, has relaxed his taut muscles – has put his mind at ease – and Finrod’s fair image into it.

Warmth still flooded him, so much that for once he deliberately ignored the wine that had become his best companion during those lonely nights when his brother lay awake in their cousins’ arms. However, if not the wine, something quite different was on his mind, something he had taken (Orodreth refused to use the term stolen) from the pocket of Finrod’s robe earlier that day. A tiny silver casket with leaves as lining and an even smaller amount of white powder inside it, almost odorless. Only once he had seen the casket before, when he had overheard a conversation between his brother and Curufin a couple of days ago.

 _‘It does wonders,’_ Curufin had said, and now the words echoed in his own mind.

Orodreth eyes shone in wry curiosity. He only had a faint idea about what exactly the substance was, something he usually did not approve of. Well, he hadn’t approved to so many things in his brother’s kingdom. They happened nevertheless and there was exactly nothing he could do against them.

What harm would come from simply trying out what it was?

After all it was already late at night and he was alone in his chambers, as always. Before giving his idea a second thought he wet his finger with saliva and dipped it into the powder, smearing it against on the flesh above his teeth. The taste was an odd one, salty, almost acidic. Orodreth couldn’t help to grimace in disgust, hardly believing that his brother, so used to fineries used something alike on a regular basis. Luckily, the taste in his mouth did not persist, and he lay himself down onto the bed, one arm resting under his head, one leg slightly bent. 

A confident sigh escaped him as his gaze wandered over his torso towards his semi-hard cock which rested against his thigh. Involuntarily his hand followed his eyes. It was hard to describe how he felt. Orodreth could almost feel the drug crawling along his veins into his head, leaving him shivering despite the warmth of the candles. Not much later than he had licked off his finger, his heartbeat began to hammer in his ears, shrill and loud, alarming to some extent, yet at the same time an odd feeling of supremacy soared through him. The candles near the end of the bed transformed into glowering torches of red and pink and orange, their scent so much more intense than he remembered it to be.

He blinked – once, twice, in paranoid disbelief or in an attempt to shoo the images away as he did not trust his vision; futilely so as the strange colors persisted. Into the flames long forgotten faces of those who already abided in Námo’s halls and sparks of colors brighter than any he had seen in the dark caves.

Momentarily his mind went astray, searching for those vile and abhorrent desires which he called his own for so long now, those desires that now, at the heights of his delirious state, called to him stronger and louder than they had ever before. With a foolish grin tugging at his lips he began to touch himself, lying on the bed that so much resembled his brother’s own. Without having even touched himself properly, his cock was hard already, abnormally sensitive. Despite the guilt that always plagued him it never needed much to coax his brother’s fair face into his dreams; green eyes and golden tresses, luscious lips curved into a challenging smirk. Today less than ever.

The flames of the candles seemed to dance, their shadows embracing each other in the most wondrous formations, just in the way he dreamed of embracing his brother. In between the flames Finrod’s face glowed, looking at him, eyes keen and challenging.

“Findaráto,” Orodreth whispered into the still night as if he didn’t quite believe his mind.

So real his brother appeared, so perfect, outshining even the brightest of the candles. He dipped his hand into the scented balm before he resumed touching his cock, spreading the oil from the tip to the base and testicles, and further down his cleft, sighing blissfully as he did.

There was no strength left in his body to resist the thrill of lust that coursed through him; not when Finrod’s gaze rested so heavily upon him; not when his fantasies reached new heights. With a foolish smile upon his lips he arched his lean body against the cushions, golden curls fanned out across the dark fabric. Languidly, he began to let one fingertip wander over his mouth, imagining it was Finrod’s, licking at it lightly until a quiet moan fell from his tongue. A smirk of apprehension tugged at the corner of his well-curved lips as all too well he knew what usually came next.

It wasn’t that Orodreth wasn’t used to his own touch – quite the contrary; it wasn’t that that he didn’t know exactly what he enjoyed, yet today everything seemed to be different. Stronger, more intense, colors as bright as he had never seen them before, and even the gentlest touch made his eyelids flutter. The hand that palmed his cock did not seem to belong to his own body, and it was so much easier, therefore to imagine it was his brother’s.

Orodreth couldn’t suppress the shiver that wound so wonderfully up his spine upon the thought of his brother touching him so exquisitely, intimately. Not when his intoxicated mind was caught in a maelstrom of desires, putting the most vivid scenarios into his head.

_‘My king. You called for me?’_

Before the door was completely open, the answer came: _‘Yes.’_

If it was Finrod’s appearance – or the nonchalance of the breathed word that made him shudder, Orodreth couldn’t tell when at last he stepped into his brother’s chambers with quivering legs.

That it was all in his head didn’t matter, as all too real had his fantasies become. As the too-wonderful sensation of his hand stroking his cock intensified he did not even wonder why his brother might have received the white powder from his cousins. What for his brother received it from their cousin, Orodreth did not wonder about anymore. _Curufin, the insatiable bastard, always scheming, always plotting – always manipulating, even between the sheets,_ Orodreth thought bitterly, before a wave of bliss gladly drowned the hateful thought when he touched an especially sensitive spot between his parted legs.

With a grace that was so unique to his brother, Finrod discarded the flimsy garment from his body. Orodreth stared in awe; taut muscles under golden skin, delicate metal winding itself about his swan-like neck. In apprehension, he licked his lips, wanting even more. He always wanted more from his brother. Finrod guided him towards the bed with a knowing smile, whispering, _‘lie down and wait for me.’_

Orodreth’s wet dreams were flooded with images of how Finrod would soon look, disheveled and wrecked, with his skin glistening divinely with perspiration. In his mind, he obliged his brother’s command, at least partly, laying himself down with his skin covered in gooseflesh. Although his brother had told him to wait, he felt unable to and let his fingertips run down his sides, up his chest, circling his navel before he palmed his erection.

The temptation was simply irresistible.

For mere seconds his hand lingered there before he traced idle patterns across his chest, fingertips stroking over a hardened nipple until he had to stifle a filthy moan. The drug unleashed a torrent of emotions so impossible hard to keep at bay that Orodreth wished the sensation would never end.

 _‘Brother.’_ Finrod’s voice dipped into a low whisper as he joined him. Still, Orodreth’s fingers made their journey across his body, his thumb moving back and forth along the wet tip of his cock. His brother’s watchful eyes provoked a flush that rapidly spread across his skin, tainting his cheeks rosy as languidly he stroked himself. Apparently, his brother liked what he saw. 

In his fogged imagination, Orodreth did not have to wait long for Finrod to lace his fingers with his own, setting the rhythm. In reality he felt unable to tell what fantasy was and what was not. So alive Finrod’s face burned against his eyelids, so real his voice spoke to him when he asked for his consent. Once given, his brother still hesitated; Finrod’s fair and handsome face was contorted with the odd combination of sensuality and restraint, smiling down at him, unsure if he should proceed. In contrast, Orodreth knew well how to proceed – or not, as he wasn’t himself anymore with too much adrenaline speeding through his veins. There was no explanation needed when Finrod came to kneel over him, strong thighs brushing against his own; there was no need for questions when Finrod’s fingers splayed over his chest, over his nipples, caressing him until he was reduced to a trembling mess; there was no need for consent when a candle was in his brother’s hand as he would give his consent for the most offensive crimes of all.

The first droplet of wax met his skin, landing just across his navel with a burning sensation and Orodreth let out a startled noise of surprise. Until now, he has not even noticed that a candle was actually in his hand and he stared at it with wide eyes.

Had he truly came _that_ far?

Yet another droplet fell down on him, rather by accident as, whilst pondering his thoughts, his hand had begun to shake. The liquid wax stung against his skin, but then it did not; or rather it did, but the sharp pain transformed into a strangely pleasurable feeling, all the more when he caught his brother’s mischievous gaze above him. His entire body quivered from the sensation of the candle and his hand against his erection.  Finrod bent down, holding the candle away from them as he traced a path of gentle kisses from behind Orodreth’s ear towards the pulse of his neck, leaving a shiver in their wake, and low and lower Finrod’s head went until his tongue licked around the semi-hard drop of wax. Orodreth arched against his bed, chin lifted too high to be comfortable; he didn’t care. Not when his erection brushed against Finrod’s own, not when his brother’s delicate fingers danced along the blood-filled veins of his cock; not when he became one with the frantic desire that soared through him. With his mouth standing agape, words of incoherence spilled from his lips, urging his brother to proceed. And so Finrod did. Each drop fell on a slightly different spot, upwards, like a perfect line of wax, before Finrod held the candle distinctly lower.

Orodreth twitched and thrashed in response, yet somehow he managed to keep the pace of his hand steady, stroking his cock in an even rhythm.

The posphenes he saw, bright flashes of light, blinding in their intensity assaulted his senses. He tried to keep his vision from blurring; he had to see his brother’s face, contorting beautifully in myriads of emotions.

He had never truly tasted the forbidden, still he found himself yearning for it, stronger and more powerfully than ever. In the transcendent state of euphoria that was brought to him by the white power and the thoughts of his brother looming over him, by the hand around his cock, the searing wax against his skin he whispered Finrod’s name into the nightly air.

“Findaráto.”

It was the seductive mélange of everything he couldn’t have that made him float with such a strange detachment from the world he was forced to live in, his brother’s court of lies above all else. His dreams were everything he had, a blissful escape into endless heights for a few hours before reality kept crashing down on him again.

Oh he was close, so close already, with dazzling stars fogging his vision. Frantically he fisted his cock, slick with oil and pre-come, and every now and then his fingers dipped lower, massaging his balls until he nearly came. But then it wasn’t his own hand anymore, but his brother’s. And patient Finrod never let him. Whenever he was close, so blissfully close to moan his name, the hand was gone from where he needed it most, instead idly playing somewhere else. Between his legs he felt his body clenching, trashing – begging for release in silence until the wax fell down on him again.

Amidst the pain the waterfall of molten wax brought to him, Finrod smiled down, so tenderly brushing his long, jewel-adorned fingers against his swollen skin, exactly as he has done so often in Orodreth’s nightly fantasies with only the pale moon as their witness. Never had he thought it possible that pain could evoke such pleasure, could lure such words of incoherence from his lips.

Well, there had been a time when he hadn’t fantasized about his brother in such a way, either, and now he was helplessly lost to his own shameful desires. 

Orodreth’s fingertip traced a stream of dried wax on her chest, imaging it were Finrod’s own who caressed him so exquisitely. A slick finger that dipped down and ran lightly across the base of his cock, cupping the balls with his palm until he cried out in bliss.

Rivers of molten gold spilled down his chest, his sides, hardening on their way downwards, fed by drop after drop of fresh wax, pricking and burning his skin. Ferociously, the pain burnt upon his skin, biting and gnawing, still his mind soared in heights of bliss he had never felt before. A secret whisper stirred in Orodreth’s soul, as if his brother’s words were placed right there, and for seconds, he froze in terror. Not long, though, as the hand around his cock had developed a life of its own.

As the wax fell faster upon his skin, his hand desperately moved up and down his length, in a rhythm so close to frenzy that he nearly spilled all across his hand. Strangely detached from the world he was, floating in a river of emeralds with threads of twining gold. Exploding stars of silver, orange, and gold, shining so bright in his mind that Orodreth felt as if his eyes would burn from the sight alone. From the sight of his brother’s face in the throes.  

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

A hiss of pain escaped him, with no lips immediately there to kiss the discomfort away. In his mind, it was his brother who held the candle; in his mind, it were his brother’s fingertips, which peeled the dried wax from his skin, leaving red traces in their wake; in his mind, it was Findaráto sitting astride of him with wearing nothing else than the Nauglamír.

“Findaráto–” Orodreth moaned into the nightly air, heavy with the scent of wax and transpiration.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Upon the exquisite yet strange pleasures that almost became too much to bear, he writhed like a fish on the sandy shores against the bed sheets – the ones resembling an exact copy of Finrod’s own – snapping for air, gasping, moaning, begging for Finrod to stop his relentless assault with the candle – begging him to fuck him. In reality, his hand worked up and down his cock more deliberately, more frantically until tiny droplets of seed emerged and automatically, the candle hovered across his nipples, his hand – Finrod’s hand – just unable to be stopped.

His brother’s voice was dark and full of lust. _‘Well then, Artaresto. Shall we proceed?’_

He tried to respond but naught else than moans escaped his mouth.

His nipples soon became coated in a shell of golden wax, his sides adorned with dried rivers that carelessly ran further down and stained the emerald silk. Orodreth was too far beyond himself to even notice such vanities. The wax dripped down, faster and faster. The motion of his hand sped up as Finrod mumbled sweet nonsense above him. The timbre of his intonations was sultry and seductive, the hand stroking his cock up and down was only his own when in truth it merely was his own fingers. Still, they left trails of shivers in its wake.

Gloriously Finrod pinned him down, even then when he tried to thrash against the pain that seared along his nerves. Every section of his naked torso he found under attack, sharp stinging drops falling down with such horrid precision that Orodreth doubted it was truly his gentle brother that inflicted the pain. He bucked and writhed against Finrod’s weight as the wax still fell upon him in hot rivers, guided by his own shaking hand. Bright agony ripped across his face as close and closer the flame wandered towards his skin until tiny pearls of transpiration began to form upon his brow. Orodreth doubted that he could hold off much longer, not with watching his brother moving obscenely up and down.

The candles flared with the slightest breeze of cool air, causing an odd sensation against Orodreth’s abused and burning skin. Finrod’s imaginary finger traced a stream of dried wax, before he peeled it off his skin without warning. Orodreth cried out in pain and pleasure, bucking his hips as his eyes snapped open to meet his brother’s smirking gaze.

 _‘Hush, Artaresto,’_ Finrod whispered, so soft and highly contrasting to the sharp pain. _‘Stop thinking.’_ The words held a promise, a benediction for their illicit sins. Simultaneously with the words in his head, Orodreth brought the candle closer to his body, so close that he felt the warmth ghost over his skin; and again the wax dripped down on him, made his arm shake with the sensation of a hundred tiny needles pierced through his skin. Just like the wax Finrod’s golden curls fell down onto Orodreth’s chest when Finrod bent down to finally claim his lips in a kiss; searing and burning, just as the candle which, for once, was placed aside. Instead of burning heat the cold metal of the Nauglamír caressed him now. Their cocks – what in reality only was his own slick hand, rubbed against each other, skin slick with tiny pearls of seed and transpiration. Helplessly, Orodreth jerked and moaned as Finrod’s finger pressed against his quivering hole for the briefest of moments, before it was gone, leaving him begging to be touched.

_‘Artaresto.’_

Finrod’s voice trickled down his neck like a warm summer rain, caressing and soothing as nothing has soothed him since he was a child in his mother’s arms. Orodreth knew that his brother was lonely in his very own way, too proud to come to him with his darkest needs, instead climbing into their cousins’ bed night after night.

 _Finrod_. Golden, pure Finrod, ethereally gleaming in the soft glow of the flames, a divine illusion Orodreth couldn’t fathom that it was his own brother. Pure Finrod who slid into their cousins’ bed without even trace of shame, gentle Finrod who shamelessly indulged with them into the most carnal sins late at night. The cold sensation of ignorance twisted in his guts. Golden Finrod on his hands and knees before them, before those who offered nothing more but sage advice, Finrod sitting astride of him now, wearing naught else than the divine jewel, with sadistic mischief and storm clouds gathering in his eyes. His beloved brother. The last one who was left.

What just had become of them?

 _‘Brother mine; Artaresto!’_ Finrod chanted, the words so silent that they were barely there, nothing more than a dance of breath against Orodreth’s heated skin. A sound which all too easily could lull him into deepest slumber, or catapult him up into the stars. Right now it certainly was the latter as the dizziness of pleasure sheer seemed to overwhelm him, fiercer than it ever has.

Orodreth didn’t know if it was to be blamed to the drug, or the fantasy of his brother sitting astride of him, fisting his cock as if it Nargothrond would burn into ashes once morning came.  

Too overwhelming his brother’s breath brushed against his ear, too demandingly their fingers were laced in a savage act of sin, too exquisite the touch against his erection was as he touched himself, imagining it was his brother’s hand wrapped around it. Too golden Finrod shone in the candlelight, and too sensual he moved up and down his groin, swaying his hips so obscenely. The pace of Orodreth’s hand sped up and his hips thrust upwards to meet the frantic rhythm of his hand, so much that he bit his lip to stifle the obscene sounds from falling.

So graciously his brother’s attention was directed towards him at least once – untamed, unshared, even if it was in his fantasy alone.

_‘Brother mine.’_

_‘Findaráto.’_

A wave of utter bliss ripped across Orodreth’s face when at last he came with his brother’s name upon his lips, sticky seed mingling with the dried wax upon his chest.

*

In between light and dark, between sweet slumber and dreadful wakefulness when his hazy eyes fell close, he faintly heard a knock placed against his door. He was sliding, almost floating as exhaustion and sleep took over, as a shrill voice followed the knock.

“Artaresto!” A voice – troubled and worried – one he immediately recognizes as Finrod’s called out, one that made his heartbeat flutter despite his ogreish fatigue. “Artaresto, brother mine! I know it is an unruly hour, but please open the door, it is urgent.”

A long pause hung in the air before, at last, Orodreth spoke.

“Come in. The door is open.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Dear prompter, I really hope you like poor Orodreth .. and don't mind my little excurse with the drugs.
> 
> Thank you, vanimore/Spiced Wine, for beta reading this fic for me.
> 
> I am on tumblr, feel free to say hello.


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